In a fit of frustration, she turned to the silent man at her side. “Baillie! Are you just going to stand there and let them treat me this way?”

Baillie was barely keeping himself together; protecting her was the last thing on his mind.

Her outburst made his face darken, his pride in tatters. With a scowl, he shrugged her off, pushed through the crowd, and strode away without looking back.

Jamison chuckled and called out, “Ms. Miller, if you don’t hurry, Mr. Windsor’s going to be your ex all over again.”

Lauren shot him a murderous glare, so furious she thought she might explode, but entirely helpless to change anything.

After two seconds of stand-off, her composure crumbled. She covered her face and fled, humiliated.

Honestly, calling out a woman like that in public wasn’t really Jamison’s style. He might have a sharp tongue, but he still knew how to act like a gentleman.

The truth was, Lauren’s earlier treatment of Ivy had left a sour taste in his mouth.

Sure, Ivy could handle her own battles. But since he was here, there was no need for her to get her hands dirty.

“They’re gone,” Jamison said, watching Lauren’s disheveled figure disappear into the crowd. He looked down at the woman on his arm, as if expecting some praise.

But Ivy couldn’t be bothered. She brushed his hand off her waist without a word.

Jamison grinned. “Didn’t take you long to ditch me once I’d helped you out, huh?”

She shot him a glare so sharp it could have drawn blood, silent but deadly.

Jamison knew exactly what she was mad about. He took the hint, stepping back and raising his voice to the crowd: “Just to clarify, I’m still courting Ms. Ivy, and I believe she’ll say yes and become my girlfriend sooner or later.”

“Jamison!” Ivy finally snapped, gritting her teeth in warning.

Some clarification that was!

The crowd was stunned all over again.

Even more unbelievable than Jamison falling for Ivy was the fact that he hadn’t won her over yet.

Everyone thought the same thing: No wonder she used to be the top socialite in Neo Haven. Even if she’d fallen on hard times, even if her reputation had taken a hit, her charm was as captivating as ever.

Sawyer quickly signaled the staff to disperse the onlookers and get everyone back to viewing the art.

Jamison kept his eyes on Ivy. When the crowd finally thinned out, he smiled, “Come on, let’s see the rest of the exhibit.”

He reached for her hand, but Ivy stayed frosty, deftly dodging his touch.

Undeterred, he reached again, only for her to evade him once more.

This little dance went on three or four times.

Ivy refused to let him so much as brush her fingers.

Katrina was watching from the sidelines, stifling her laughter behind her hand.

“Ivy, just let Dr. Ludwig hold your hand,” Katrina teased. “It’s not like it’ll kill you.”

Ivy shot her a look. “What’s he giving you to always take his side?”

Katrina immediately zipped her lips.

Ivy turned back to Jamison, her face still cool and distant. “Didn’t you call me the other day, saying you’d come to the exhibit this weekend?”

Jamison couldn’t exactly admit he’d used his “Dr. Handsome” alias to snoop on her plans and showed up today on purpose.

So he lied. “Had to work late – some emergency surgeries came up, so I switched my day off.” Ivy gave him a look.

He kept up the innocent act. “Totally didn’t expect to run into you here. Guess it’s fate, huh?”

“Bad luck,” Ivy shot back, turning away.

Sawyer nodded politely to Jamison, then hurried after Ivy, lowering his voice. “Miss Windsor, we’re almost there.”

Since Ivy had made it clear she didn’t want anyone to know she was the artist “Jasmine,” Sawyer was careful with his words.

Ivy understood; he meant her painting was just ahead.

They rounded an L-shaped corridor, stepping into the largest gallery of the museum.

A crowd had gathered around a single painting, everyone craning their necks, gazes intent and thoughtful.

Ivy moved closer, immediately recognizing the piece that had drawn so much attention.

Lock.

Her steps slowed. She walked forward a few more paces, then stopped completely.

She stared at the painting – at the woman bound in heavy chains – frozen, as if she’d stepped out of time and space, seeing herself from years ago, desperate and lost.

Katrina noticed the painting too.

She squeezed Ivy’s arm in silent comfort, not needing words.

Around them, people murmured, deep in discussion.

“It’s called Lock. The woman looks so hopeless, so trapped. Do you think it’s about how marriage can imprison a woman?”

“I think it’s about domestic violence.”

“Yeah, maybe the artist’s a survivor, using this to show her pain and despair.”

“Marriage is basically a life sentence for some women, isn’t it?”

Nobody knew the painting actually depicted a trafficked woman, but everyone was deeply moved.

Especially by the eyes of the woman in the painting – there was pain, yes, but also grit, longing, and fierce defiance. The longer you looked, the more it hurt, until tears welled up unbidden.

“If only we could jump into the painting, break those chains, and set her free,” a girl whispered, wiping her eyes.

Jamison, trailing just behind Ivy, stopped when she did. He glanced up at the somber painting, his own brow knitting in concern.

The more he looked, the tenser his expression became.

This painting…

He turned to Ivy, watching the storm of emotion flicker across her face as she struggled to keep herself together. His heart twisted painfully; without thinking, he raised a hand to block her view.

“You shouldn’t look at this,” he said softly, his voice rough yet gentle, thick with concern. “It’s not good for you.”

Chapter 187